Pregnant Pause
by KT Welsh
Summary: An elf anxiously awaits the birth of his first child. Just a little piece of slightly angsty 'fluff' prompted by a comment in a letter from Tolkien.


**Author's Note & Disclaimer:**  
  
  
_"I meant right away to deal with…the question of Elvish child-bearing…which I have given much thought [to]."_  
  
~ written by J.R.R. Tolkien in a letter to Lord Halsbury, 4 August 1973 ("The Letters of J.R.R. Tolkien", (1981), Harper Collins)  
  
  
Here's my own fluffy interpretation of how that would go. (I'm sure the Professor's interpretation would have been much more worthy!) I don't like it as much as I used to – it's a little rushed towards the end, I think, but I'm leaving it posted anyway. 

As usual, I own nothing Middle-Earth related – it's all Tolkien's.  
  


  
**Pregnant Pause  
**  
  
One who held as much power as he did would not normally have allowed himself to be forcibly removed from a room in his own home, but on this occasion he had been willing to make an exception. Except in truth, he had not been given much choice in the matter - the combination of the fierce glare he had received from his wife's birth-maid, and the sudden unexpected hostility of his beloved towards him (in fact, towards all male elves), had seen him swiftly propelled towards the door as soon as the suggestion that his presence was superfluous had been made.  
  
Now he waited outside the door with mounting anxiety, resuming the pacing that had so annoyed his darling wife. He had thought himself to have ably prepared for this moment; he had read any number of ancient texts written on the subject, and had sought the counsel of the wisest elves of his acquaintance, all of whom had sagely assured him that the miracle of birth could be nothing but a pleasant experience for both mother and child. Now, he was beginning to think he should perhaps have gone to their wives for aid instead, for it seemed they had been wholly mistaken in their assumptions.  
  
Although the mental anguish he suffered could not be easily calmed, he began to gently massage the now-bruised bones of his left hand in an effort to relieve some of his physical pain. He had not suspected his wife to be capable of such strength, but then neither had he known she knew such foul Elvish words as those that had poured forth from her lips as she struggled to bring their first-born into the world. He felt rather foolish; in his imaginings, he had seen her accepting her fate silently and with a brave smile, but as he finally began to comprehend the biological mechanics of the event unfolding before him, he understood what an absurd notion that had been. If their positions had been reversed, he had no doubt his screams would have been far louder.  
  
He also understood now the reason for the worried expression she had worn constantly as the fateful day had drawn closer. He himself had remained cheerily unconcerned by such matters of pain and suffering - rather he had watched in wonder as she had undergone an astonishing physical change. Her breasts had grown heavier, her belly had swollen, and slowly she had realised that all attempts to walk gracefully were futile and was reduced to waddling towards her destination.  
  
A number of his friends dropped by as the hours stretched on without a resolution. They enquired about progress, and smiled to see him so ruffled by events. His famous detachment had vanished completely; he was a simmering pool of raw emotion, and one that threatened to boil over at any second. He answered their questions with no attempt at patience, every fibre of his being focused on events behind the closed door. Whenever he knocked, either in another effort to gain access or just to enquire after his wife's health, he was firmly but politely assured that "everything is well, the first always takes some time, any news will be communicated immediately". And then the door would close again, shutting out his concern.  
  
Eventually, he tired of walking the suffocating closeness of the small corridor, and stepped outside for a breath of fresh air. He filled his lungs thankfully, feeling some of the strain disperse in the bright sunlight. Night had come and then gone again, but still it seemed the end was not in sight.  
  
He could not prevent his mind wandering to events of the past months; indeed it provided a welcome distraction. He remembered with a smile the moment he had first realised the implication of the news his wife had so happily shared with him - the fact that he was to be a father had remained unreal until he had placed his hand on her stomach as directed and felt the first tiny flutters within. His baby kicking, ably demonstrating the strength that would be required to survive this long and tortuous entrance.  
  
He no longer cared whether she produced a male or a female child. On first hearing the news, he had immediately proclaimed that he would have like to have a son, an heir, and his wife had smiled indulgently and whispered that she would do her best, but as the day dragged on he wished only for his child to be born healthy, and born soon. He or she was already guaranteed to be the most beautiful baby ever birthed - surely good looks were inevitable for any child born to such an exquisite mother. He thought of all the things he planned to teach his child, and all the gifts he had already begun to consider bestowing. His infant would want for nothing, but he would also be careful to impart the need for humility, and consideration of those less fortunate. His son or daughter would grow into an elf he and his beloved could be justifiably proud of.  
  
As dusk approached yet again, he found himself back outside the room, eagerly summoned by a maid. He was not yet allowed to be at his wife's side, and mounting excitement mingled with heartfelt fear; his wife had been greatly tired by the fight to force her baby from her body, and her birth-maid was concerned that she did not have the strength to remain with them once she had seen her child safely delivered. As he faced the previously unconsidered possibility of losing the very reason for his existence, tears began to fall uncontrollably and he sank to the ground, suddenly inconsolable. The young elf-maid who had been sent to bring him inside hesitated for only a moment before kneeling beside him and wrapping comforting arms around his neck. He clung to her desperately, paying no heed to what those around might think of this proud elf seeking comfort from a subordinate. He was only afraid that this sudden tide of emotion would sweep him away from his wife forever, and he needed an anchor to keep him at her side.  
  
It seemed like an eternity before they heard the first wail of a new-born, a cry that was surprisingly sturdy to the sensitive ears of one prepared for the worst. The door that had been a barrier between a loving couple for far too long swung open, and he jumped immediately to his feet. The birth- maid's expression gave no indication of what had occurred; she simply beckoned him into the formerly forbidden room, and he obeyed unquestioningly after giving his comforter a watery smile of eternal gratitude.  
  
As he tiptoed into the room, he saw what he knew would be the most glorious sight his eyes would ever behold. His wife, her smile tired but jubilant, cradling a small bundle in her arms. He crossed instantly to her side, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead as she took his hand and squeezed it reassuringly, and gazed down in wonder at their baby suckling eagerly at his mother's breast. Reaching out a finger, he stroked the soft skin of his heir's cheek with infinite tenderness.  
  
"He could not wait," she said, half-laughing, half-crying. "He has an appetite like his father's."   
  
"We have a son," the father in question breathed. "My dear, we have a son!"  
  
"Yes, Thranduil," his wife agreed, amused by his obvious amazement and giddy with her own happiness. "Legolas is here at last."


End file.
